


Epilogue

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunley and Brandt go to dinner after their final hearing in front of the committee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [infiniteeight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteeight/gifts).



> For Infiniteeight, who deserves it very much. (Sorry the summary is so dull.) Self-betaed, beware of typos.

“Let me buy you a drink, Mr. Secretary,” Brandt says as he and Hunley step into the mid-afternoon sunlight after what he hopes will be the final hearing on the IMF for a good, long time.

“A drink? For saving your ass and the asses of your entire team?”

Brandt chuckles. “Two drinks, then.”

“Dinner.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

They go to a steakhouse, the type with dark wood tables and leather armchairs instead of regular seats. Hunley looks around and nods his approval. “Been a while since we’ve been here.”

“Been awhile since we’ve been anywhere,” Brandt replies. “Well, except the trip to England.”

“That wasn’t a trip,” Hunley says with a smile. “That was damage control for an international incident.”

Brant chuckles. “You say po-tay-to, I say po-tah-to.”

“I say I’m glad we’re here right now,” Hunley replies. “I’m glad I kept you out of federal prison or the death penalty due to treason, and I’m glad your team pulled off the job.”

“Sorry for giving you a heart attack for how we pulled it off.”

“Is it really going to be like that all the time?”

Brandt thinks about it for a minute while Hunley orders two scotches—neat for Brandt, on the rocks for himself—and two medium rare steaks with all the fixings. “I _want_ to tell you it’s not always like that.”

“But?”

“But there’s a reason Jane defected to the CIA just before you shut us down.”

Hunley groans and rubs a hand over his face. “I assumed she’d exaggerated to some extent.”

“I read her incoming interview with you. She was actually very restrained.”

“What have I gotten myself into?”

Brandt grins and reaches for Hunley’s hand. “Adventure. Intrigue. Pretty people who will stab you in the shoulder.”

Hunley chuckles and takes Brandt’s hand. “Let’s skip that last one and discuss if there’s a way to sedate Ethan Hunt as needed.”

“The answer is no,” Brandt replies. “Believe me, I’ve looked into it.”

“Let’s discuss something else, then,” Hunley says. “Like how many vacation days the Secretary of the IMF gets compared to the Chief of Operations.”

“The IMF is an agency with very little oversight and an incredible burden on its shoulders. The law of the land has always been take what you can get when you get it.”

“Perhaps we can take some time in a few months, go fly fishing like we did last year.”

“I’d like that,” Brandt says and smiles. “We’re going to need to replace my rod. It snapped last time, remember?”

“That’s right.”

A server comes to the table and drops off their drinks. Hunley picks up his and holds it up to the light. Brandt simply holds his in both hands and watches him. Hunley’s a scotch connoisseur; Brandt just likes the taste and the mouth feel. “Does it meet your high standards?” he asks.

“Yes,” Hunley replies, no joke in his voice, but his lips quirk in a smirk.

“Good,” Brandt says. He holds up his glass. “Welcome to your new position, Sir.”

“I look forward to working with you.” They touch their glasses and drink.


End file.
